


Remnants

by woojaes



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, seriously what is this, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojaes/pseuds/woojaes
Summary: Kun loves returning home to a quiet, almost-empty apartment, the remnants of Sicheng’s day still lingering on the furniture.





	Remnants

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is literally a re-write of an old fanfic i wrote back in....2014? starring infinite members. but i reread it and decided the characterisations could work so well with winkun and well. yeah. this is honestly just pure fluff and it lacks substance because of how short it is, but i hope y'all like anyway!

By the time Kun returns, it’s already dark in the apartment, only small specks of light filtering in from the moon or the standby-lights from the TV, phone charger, washing machine. There’s the quiet buzz from the fridge in the background, the repetitive ticking of the clock above the door. There’s the cold remains of strong coffee in the cup by the sink, stained slightly on the inside and chipped on the rim from an unfortunate accident no one can remember; there’s Sicheng’s plates on the table from his dinner that he hadn’t cleared away, a spillage of rice grains on the side, a flick of sauce dried onto the wood.

Kun loves returning home to a quiet, almost-empty apartment, the remnants of Sicheng’s day still lingering on the furniture. He walks to their shared bedroom, fragments of lamplight seeping through the door, finds Sicheng slumped over the desk, books and note paper and stationary surrounding him, sleeping lightly with his head tucked in the cook of his elbow. It’s his final year of college, major exams in two weeks, and Kun wishes he knew how to lift some of the stress off his tiny shoulders.

The clock in here ticks just as repetitively, although not as loud and obnoxious as the kitchen’s. It’s quiet, considerate, and one quick peek at Sicheng’s biology notebook tells Kun that he fell asleep studying molecular genetics, whatever that is. His pen is still in hand, nib pressing onto the paper and creating spider-leg patterns in the margin. In a few minutes, he will rouse and rub the sleep out of his eyes, mumble something incoherent about needing to cram an extra few hours studying into the day despite it being almost two in the morning; but Kun will stop him, once again, in favour of him getting a decent rest.

For the last month, the same has happened every day, and tonight will be no different. Each time he comes home from his second job, apartment quiet and dark and littered with the domestic residues of Sicheng’s day, there’s an odd sock mysteriously lying on the bedroom floor, there’s the smell of Sicheng’s deodorant still faintly floating in the air, there’s toothpaste stains in the bathroom sink and the cabinet has been left open, the contents askew and messy.

Between the two of them, they never have enough room for their clothes or products or food or furniture, but they manage. The apartment is dirty at times, the dishes sometimes going days without being washed or the laundry going a week without being sorted, but they have a routine. They have a thing.

Sicheng stirs, pen dropping out of his grasp, and he finally sits up, groaning something about his back aching and his head hurting. He’s realises Kun is there before he even needs to announce it, because this is becoming part of their thing now. He balls his hands into fists, rubs the sleep from his tired eyes, stretches his arms in the air and makes a noise of approval as his muscles pop. He spins in his seat to look at Kun, smiles at him weakly, eyes half closed and shoulders drooping from lack of sleep.

“I should study more,” he manages to say and then yawns after, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the book in front of him, but Kun only closes it and moves it away from the desk. At first, Sicheng protested a lot, resulting in a full-blown argument when they were both dead from exhaustion and eventually just agreeing to call it even. Now, Sicheng barely puts up a fight; he tries to grab hold of the book as Kun pulls it away, but by now he understands that Kun only has his health in mind and gives up.

Sicheng has just enough energy to change into some comfier clothes and actually get into bed, but he’s back asleep as soon as the curtains are drawn and Kun joins him under the covers. Kun likes to treasure this time, just lying and listening to Sicheng breathe, counting the ticks of the clock, knowing that every second is closer to those final exams being over so both of them can relax for even a moment. Sicheng has a habit of making sleepy noises sometimes and Kun likes every single one because they remind him that for those several precious hours, Sicheng is at peace in his dreams and not worrying over whatever biological nonsense.

Sometimes Sicheng will even curl up into Kun’s side unconsciously, tighten his fingers around his boyfriend’s waist and keep them pressed together, chest to chest, all night; from this position, he can feel Sicheng’s heartbeat, slow and steady, reminding him that this thing he has with Sicheng, this apartment and this life, is all very real and he isn’t imagining it.

Kun wakes up and leaves the apartment before Sicheng does, as always; his day job is demanding and steals away the crucial moments with his boyfriend in the morning, but he never leaves for work without taping a note to the fridge saying “good luck”. What Sicheng does with these notes, he doesn’t know, because they’re not in the trash or in their bedroom or scattered on the floor like plenty of their other things, but he decides that’s not important.

Sicheng’s temporary bout of insomnia arrives four days before his first exam, and it hurts Kun even more to see him so sick and tired. He wakes up during the night to find the bed empty and cold, pads into the living room and finds Sicheng watching reruns of dramas on TV, shivering and wrapped in a blanket despite it being spring. When Kun leaves for work that morning, Sicheng is cocooned in the blanket on the sofa, snoring softly, the end credits of a martial arts movie playing quietly on the TV as he sleeps. These nights, not being able to treasure the only moments he has with Sicheng, Kun ends up not being able to sleep too, but he keeps that a secret.

Finally, after the four days, the exams are over and Kun has his day off, so he goes to pick Sicheng up from the exam hall. He sits in the passenger side of Kun’s car, talks animatedly about the questions and the information and how well he thinks he did, and Kun nods along, not wanting to interrupt him. Back in the apartment, it’s still messy and there’s a week’s worth of laundry that needs sorting and they need to go grocery shopping because there’s nothing but a few packets of instant ramen in the cupboards, but none of that matters because Sicheng hugs him the moment they’re inside, whispering in his ear how much he appreciates all Kun does for him, and Kun feels his heart swell in his chest.

They spend the rest of the day cleaning the apartment and doing the laundry and buying food, finally falling asleep together, Sicheng once again pressed against Kun’s chest; he ignores the clock on the wall, quiet and considerate, because he needs to stop focusing on the time he doesn’t have with Sicheng and actually savour the time he does.

  
In the morning, instead of leaving a good luck note, Kun makes a fresh cup of hot chocolate and leaves it on the table, so it will just be cool enough to drink by the time Sicheng wakes up. He writes “to your first day of freedom!” on a sticky note and sticks it to the saucer. By the time he’s home, the note has disappeared to wherever Sicheng puts them, the cup and saucer is by the sink, cold and stained on the inside, and there’s an empty tub of ice-cream in the trash. The apartment is dark again but not quiet – there’s the sound of laughter coming from the TV and Sicheng is sat in front of it, giggling along with whatever he’s watching, shoes thrown haphazardly in the hallway, blanket strewn across the floor, coffee table littered with empty cans of drink.

Kun knows this thing, their routine, will eventually change; Sicheng will get a job and they’ll probably spend even less time together, and maybe the separation will become too much for either of them and they’ll call it quits. One day they might move to a bigger apartment with more space for _them_ or maybe one day they’ll be forced to move back in with their parents. One day they might start talking about serious things like children and families or they might not talk at all. Kun knows all this, and he’s not prepared at all for any of it – he knows, if their relationship ever breaks down, it can’t be repaired with a handwritten message or a cup of hot chocolate.

But right now, watching the smile light up Sicheng’s face, happier than he’s been in a long time, Kun knows he should really stop worrying.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise one day i will write something longer...


End file.
